Be careful how you aim Master Cubinoid, there are some nice Kind Edwards over on the One Line Limerick thread and I am sure I can find a deep fat fryer somewhere here, shame to let a nice supper go to waste!

« Last Edit: December 12, 2011, 04:03:59 pm by Angus A Fitziron »

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Airship Artificer, part-time romantik and amateur Natural Philosopher

"wee all here are much troubled with the loss of poor Thompson & Sutton"

"That's a rotten rumor perpetrated by people who have never eaten properly fried fish. Don't let yourself believe it for a second. There is no fate more noble for a dead fish than to be battered and fried in a skillet of hot grease."

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"Well, I don't really think that the end can be assessed as of itself as being the end because what does the end feel like? It's like saying when you try to extrapolate the end of the universe, you say, if the universe is indeed infinite, then how - what does that mean? How far is all the way, and then if it stops, what's stopping it, and what's behind what's stopping it? So, what's the end, you know, is my question to you."

Evelyn comes back into the room, carrying a tea tray."I say, the Private apparently got lost on the way to the kitchen! I hope he didn't stray into the experimental breeding facility. Or have the creatures already been fed today?"

She wrinkles her nose in disgust."It does smell fishy in here, does it?"

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Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary. (Cecil Beaton)

Hello, what's all this? I go away for a few days on non-secret business, and now the place is full of bullet-holed automata and reeks of fish... whup! And I've almost done an ankle on... what's this? A set of secret screwdrivers.

"Oh, thank you so much for the help!" Evelyn giggles nervously, and lays out the milk jug and sugar bowl."This is real sugar by the way, I've checked with one of the lab rats to be sure." She pauses for a moment, gnawing her lower lip in thought."Unless someone smuggled a really slow poison in an unopened packet."

"Ah yes, the lab rats. I've been working hard in the secret lab...that we don't have... breeding a kind of rat that is immune to toxin of any kind. Problem is they like the whiskey but it doesn't affect them like it used to.

Oi! I found a phone number in the library (and since phones haven't been invented yet we can't possibly have one yet). The number's labelled "Time Police"; there's a very lovely girl on the other end of the phone right now, wondering if we have anything to report to them. It seems they know we don't exist.